


why he stayed | kamukura izuru

by jihaegguk



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: 2 months of writing has led to this monstrosity, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Rushed, Sunrises, The Tragedy of Hope's Peak Academy, he's kinda ooc, i guess, kinda cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jihaegguk/pseuds/jihaegguk
Summary: the tragedy has not yet reached its peak, and yet kamukura feels that this is enoughtoo bad fate had other plans
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	why he stayed | kamukura izuru

**Author's Note:**

> please read end notes for further comments :)

His steps echoed through the rundown building, he was used to this environment, seeing that The Tragedy has been raging on for years now. Kamukura was trying to find any Monokuma to disable. For the record, he knew that there was no Monokuma in the building, but instead, a human presence took its place. Be it a remnant or an apparent one, Kamukura wanted to find out for himself. Everything that had once been was now nothing, turned to ash by the despair that tainted the hopes of the people, caused by a mere high schooler. They'd laugh as if it were a joke but it's not, and that's what made this even more terrifying. No one would believe it,  _ a high schooler causing the end of the world itself _ . It would just be a joke to them, to everyone who was there.

  
  


The crumbling concrete beneath his feet crackled with each step, and Kamukura leaped down into the basement staircase just before the ground collapsed, rubble and debris falling into the second underground room. If someone were to be in there, well, he guessed that no one was now. There was light peeking through the reinforced door that led to the basement, which would've been bad for the occupant had the Monokuma detected it. The door wasn't initially reinforced, just a door that led to the basement of the establishment in the now ruin-like building, someone must've been occupying the space below. With a pause, Kamukura pushed the door open and noticed the single lightbulb emitting the artificial light. The light wasn't strong enough that the room would be illuminated, so he would be able to hide himself easily. Just his luck, huh.

  
  


The room was definitely empty, apart from two doors—with one possibly leading to the room that is now covered in debris from the collapse of the concrete floor above—and a modest seating area paralleled from the extended table at the middle of the mostly empty space, and the various apparatus and papers haphazardly strewn across the flat surface, with shards of broken glass swept aside, some fairly new due to the still present moisture of the chemicals that once filled them up. Splatters of dried blood trailed the ground, this professional setup warping into a horror scene in a movie. 

  
  


Kamukura walked over to the table, not even bothering to touch the surface, knowing that it was coated with atrocious mixtures of chemicals from spillages. The beakers on the table had only recently left the storage area, so someone had just come in to take them out, and it was very likely that they would return soon. But it was not within that hour, if he was correct, with the mostly empty beakers in the table, they had left to find more chemicals to mess with that would probably kill them. That would definitely take a while, judging from the scarce amounts of resources available to the human population as of now. And the ground floor collapsed too, so they would have to find another way to get in.

  
  


The chemicals were odorless, which made it harder for him to comprehend what kind they were. It couldn't be helped then. Kamukura's eyes glazed over the words printed over the stained sheets of paper on the table, making out an attempt for a drug. A drug for selfish reasons, or for a selfless cause? It was all fairly experimental, like the author didn't even know how to handle chemicals. It was very ambitious, yet idiotic. Kamukura shuffled through the unorganized stack, searching for something that wasn't there. He pinched the edge of a sheet of paper, pulling it out from the stack and reading quickly.

  
  


"Oh, the floor collapsed," gasped a light voice from atop the staircase, which was followed by an exasperated groan, and incoherent muttering.

  
  


The man in the room continued reading, despite the threat to the discovery of his presence—the girl trying to head to the basement. Morioka wouldn't be able to enter for a while even so. The paper was... interesting to say the least, but still boring nonetheless. It had fantastical instructions to create an elixir to combat the despair in people’s minds, and the attempt of concocting it was so sloppy that it wouldn’t have worked with the ingredients she worked with. It was a foolish attempt. Morioka knew that she wouldn’t have been able to make it due to her lack of talent in the field, but still, stubbornly, she tried. Noise echoed through the walls as she struggled to enter the dimly lit basement. Kamukura stared at the papers, certain that Morioka wouldn’t be able to notice the slight difference in their orientation.

  
  


Kamukura moved to conceal himself in the shadows of the room just as Morioka emerged from the entrance, sweaty and drained from trying to find another way to enter her makeshift laboratory. Morioka shifted her weight and leaned on the wall, panting and gasping for air. She surely took her time trying to catch her breath, the bag in her hands not forgotten, still giving her some weight to deal with. Heading to the middle of the room, Morioka wiped the soot off her cheek and placed the materials she managed to find on the table, worriedly glancing at the scarce resources. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she began to file through the papers on the table, dejection swirling in her eyes, unwavering.

  
  


“Was there someone here earlier?” Morioka mused, lips pursed into a pout, something that didn't bother Kamukura in the slightest. Morioka's hands were busied by shuffling through paper. He only stared at her, still, and quiet.

  
  


The rustling of paper was the only noise filling the room, other than that, it was deafeningly quiet. Morioka wasn’t one to voice her own thoughts even though no one could hear, so it was a difficulty trying to distinguish her thoughts. She moved around the table, stumbling on her feet every now and again, swearing at her clumsiness. Morioka was risking her own safety for this experiment that would inevitably fail no matter how much she altered the instructions, yet she still had the bravery to go through with it.

  
  


"What are you doing this for?" The glass beaker tumbled out of her grasp and would've shattered upon contact with the concrete had it not been for Morioka's luck by catching it. It was a very lucky clutch. Who knew what chemical she had poured into it. Morioka's eyes darted up to connect with his, terrified but expectant.

  
  


Kamukura noticed the way her teeth chattered, and the way she constantly wiped her palms off. Morioka wasn't afraid, only anxious, and her mind seemed to be drifting off every once in a while. Morioka was thinking about trivial things, like memes, and the guys she used to simp for, or maybe the state of the world, ruined and succumbing to the dance of death. The night was still young, yet it felt like eternity had just passed with the silence. She wasn’t answering Kamukura’s question, yet he didn’t push it further. Waiting was the most logical answer for now. The extra presence was strange to the two people in the room, as they hadn’t experienced such in more than a few years now, only malice and despair they had felt, which was normal under the circumstances they were in. It was slowly becoming the norm nonetheless, with no possible way to avoid it as of now.

  
  


Morioka laughed bitterly, and words just as bitter followed, “I want to try.” Those words didn’t need any extensions, the sentiment clear as day. “Never will I succeed with such high ambition,” she laughed again. “But this is all I can do.”

  
  


“How boring,” Kamukura didn’t want any part in her stubborn endeavors, finding it as repulsive as Enoshima’s view of the world. Even though Morioka didn’t offer him anything regarding his cooperation towards her goal, she was going to anyway, and he’d rather shut her down now than deal with an even bigger problem a few seconds from now. Kamukura already knew that she wouldn't be able to finish this remedy even after The Tragedy ends. Morioka also knew, but, the reason she continued to reach for the stars was because she'd rather go insane over something small like that than go insane over everything she would find out following The Tragedy.

  
  


“I believe you already have the idea that what I am doing does not correlate with my very own talent,” Morioka continued, annoyingly. “Because it is true."

  
  


In that moment, Kamukura tried to fight the urge to turn around and just leave. No matter how he looked at it, there was no moral in staying, Kamukura would just stay bored as per usual. And as lively as she might be, it would do nothing at all to affect him. It would be better if he resumed his hunt for Monokuma. 

  
  


"Tell me, what do you think of my talent?" Kamukura listened, even when he wasn't interested in what she had to say. All he needed to do was to wait for an opening before he could leave. A gap in her speech, an invasion of her thoughts. Anything would work, he didn't care about what time he had left, he'd rather figure her out first rather than prioritizing his almost too easy escape.

  
  


" _ Ultimate Observer _ ," It was a talent Kamukura also had—of course, assuming she was a student in Hope's Peak Academy (he still had the talent, whether or not she was a student there), which was likely. The school hardly let anyone with talent pass through their fingers, it was disgustingly admirable. Using their status as a school of hope to use talented children for their own benefit. Research? Hope? That was what they were feeding the public, and of course, no one would see through that lie and think that they were using that to excuse their sins.

  
  


Kamukura knew that Morioka knew how pointless her talent was. It was useful for analyzing to a certain extent, but what more than that? It'd be good for a strategist, but not for someone's daily life. What job would one get with a talent like that? What merit did it have? Absolutely nothing. It did not help with development at all.

  
  


"It's useless."

  
  


Morioka smiled dejectedly, as if she didn't know that already. However, she didn't speak. Choosing not to speak, that was probably the best course of action. There was silence that followed. Morioka wasn't smart enough to devise a plan against him,  _ she was only an observer _ , just like everyone else reading this. She didn't have any significance in this world, existing only to observe what was happening around her.

  
  


"I know that," Morioka was determined to continue, however. She was being stubborn, that she knew. But to her, any form of opinion would be useful in the battle she was waging with her uncertainties. "Yet, I can't help but hope that this stupid talent of mine can do more than what it is widely known for, can’t I think that way?" Most of the time, they would already be crying at this declaration, but she wasn't crying.  _ She was hoping _ . How vexing, there was hope in her. It couldn't be helped, however. Hope was the cause of all dreams, and as long as you had hope, you would continue to dream. That is all there is to it.

  
  


Kamukura stepped forward and stared at the surface of the table. Still, Kamukura didn’t want to touch the surface, so he spread the sheets of paper along the table and took hold of a beaker, rummaging in the bag she had brought back and pulling out a glass bottle filled with an unknown liquid. Well, unknown to most but familiar to someone like him, naturally. Morioka was still staring at him, Kamukura could feel her stare boring into his skull, he chose to ignore it even so. In a few moments, she would have no choice but to join him. Kamukura would’ve let her offer first, but it would've taken a while and there was no point in listening to her ranting further, so he had taken the initiative himself.

  
  


Since Kamukura had already made the unconscious decision to stay, there was obviously no turning back. Not that Kamukura cared, or anything. If else, he figured that through this, he would at least be able to do anything  _ at all _ so he won't spend all of his time thinking. Sure, Kamukura could have spent his time in this room doing much more productive things, but the usual routine he had made for himself bored him immensely that he couldn't help but think that he needed this.  _ Yes _ ,  _ he needed this, _ an intrusive voice at the depths of his consciousness mused.

* * *

Morioka believed that he would leave.

  
  


That’s why Morioka couldn’t mask her surprise when he walked to the table and aided her with her already failing experiment. It never was an experiment to Morioka, but, with the amount of mistakes she was making, it would seem like she was only messing with things unknown to her. Honestly, it was pitiful. To have someone help her with something they never intended to help her with. Kamukura may have not voiced it out, but it was clear to Morioka that he didn’t want to ever help her with anything.

  
  


If anything, he chose to join her to avoid her question. It didn’t matter to her, however, even though she had asked that question to herself since her adolescence.

  
  


"Morioka Hisako," the voice that tumbled out of her was timid, trembling at the intimidation the man exuded. Morioka wasn't afraid, not of him. It was actually interesting to have a companion in the chaos. But, Morioka was actually alone with a man, and one that was a stranger to her. "Your name?" Morioka flinched inwardly at the casual tone she spoke with. Morioka hadn't intended to speak that way, she hadn't had any proper human contact for  _ years _ that it wouldn't be strange for her to speak as she did just before all that.

  
  


Kamukura paused briefly from handling chemicals, eyes turning to her. Morioka didn't see his face well enough to deduce that he was staring at her, but  _ fuck _ , she could feel it with the way her pulse shot up through the roof. Eyes widening, the terror she was feeling was more dreadful than when she goes up to the surface to gather materials. The utter paralysis Morioka felt then couldn't even compare to the dread she was feeling at that moment, and Morioka knew then that there were worse foes out there than despair. She didn't know whether to describe it as fear or her body panicking because of the lack of interaction with anyone ever, be it eye contact or whatever else there is.

  
  


Kamukura returned his gaze to what he was holding, and Morioka let out a choked breath of relief. It was nice to know that he didn't care enough to kill her then. But, who knew how long his mercy would last? Morioka would give herself nightmares just thinking about it.

  
  


"You'd be foolish for believing that your talent can do more, because your talent is just that—observing," Those words felt like a stab to the heart—painful, yet it was like a weight had been lifted off of Morioka's slouching shoulders.

  
  


“Moreover, not all of those with talent can be a great deity—if that’s what you are envisioning. Your talent can do enough,” Kamukura stopped talking there. Morioka was not thankful for his remark. But then again, the truth was better than honeyed lies, she knew that from experience. Not from anything personal, just that she was always the witness of her neighborhood dramas. Time when Morioka's siblings would play and be ignorant as children, she spent listening to matters out of her tiny hands. It wasn't a suitable environment for a growing child, but it certainly helped Morioka develop her talent. Had it not been for her constant observations in the neighborhood, Morioka wouldn't have gotten this useless talent of hers.

  
  


Where would Morioka be had the Tragedy never happened? Obviously, Morioka didn't know that. But, when Morioka was still a student, she dreamed of being a photographer. It was a silly ambition, something she couldn't obtain. In this world, your talent is what defines you. A twisted ideology in a developed world. Morioka would have probably spent the rest of her days at home, lazing around with some shoddy k-drama lighting up the room. Or maybe she would have been a rather decent travel guide, Morioka had always been good at explaining her thoughts and what she saw.

  
  


There was no way to find that out now. The world has gone to shit and it would take massive manpower to even  _ try  _ to restore the suburbs. Morioka walked over to the table, eyeing what Kamukura was doing and trying to imitate him the best she could. Morioka wondered if she should tell him her adventures as a five-year-old in a dysfunctional neighborhood—if he decided that he would listen, that is. She noticed that Kamukura was repulsed by her, and Morioka wouldn't hold it against him, since it was not her business to tell others what to think of her, Morioka had no power over him.

  
  


Nonetheless, Morioka tried to start a conversation. "What did you like to do as a child?" She was curious, of course. Curious of how her newfound companion spent their childhood.

  
  


Kamukura thought about the question for a while—by a while, in his standards, he meant a few milliseconds. He did not have memories of the life of Hinata Hajime in this body, so he couldn't give an actual answer other than: "I did not have a childhood."

  
  


"Were you not allowed any freedom to spend as your own?" Morioka's eyes darted over to him, hands stilling from work. She didn't know who he was at all, so she asked ambiguously. Although, her words contradicted her actual intentions. It had always been that way for her, even as a child. Maybe it was because of the countless unfiltered conversations she had heard in her lifetime.

  
  


"No, I simply didn't exist." 

  
  


"—Oh…" Despite her understanding tone, she didn't understand anything  _ at all _ . If that was considered as stupid, then so be it.  _ She was stupid _ .

  
  


Morioka cleared her throat. "Well, I was always in the background of the main scenery, unimportant and unneeded—just like a  _ shitty _ observer, only holding on to the minuscule satisfaction of grasping the minor details in life," her tone quickly warped into something grim, and Kamukura stopped promptly at the shift in the atmosphere, "But then, it got fairly easy for me to get bored."

  
  


Morioka continued, a light smile on her rose lips, "Yet among us, you're the one more bored than the other, am I correct?"

  
  


"Why do you assume that?" Kamukura inquired, gaining a newfound interest toward Morioka.

  
  


"Your eyes," she had answered him honestly—she did choose to trust him, after all. "Yes, they may be beautiful, but they are arid. It's almost as if, what they see and how you comprehend what they see felt so utterly boring— _ and _ , i'm not saying that for some romantic development, it's just what I noticed when looking at you." Morioka didn't expect him to have an answer right away, she knew how much of a shock it was to not know something about oneself then find out about it in an instant.

  
  


Indeed, there was silence.

  
  


Silence was not unfamiliar to Morioka. Silence was an unspoken friend—otherwise, if it weren't, that would just defeat the meaning of silence,  _ as an absence of sound _ . If anyone was asking, yes, she looked the definition up. However, she found nothing, since the internet has failed and all the other means of coping for a young adult had been voided some time ago. Heck, she had no idea what it meant in words even.

  
  


"That is true."

  
  


Morioka expected him to sigh heavily. Then she realized, the world does not alter to her wishes, if it had, then everything would've been alright. What's alright in her dictionary, anyway. Plus, Kamukura was very different from the stereotypes of society and its rules. Instead of keeping her surprise, she nodded, nodded and then returned to her disorganized work. Kamukura was doing so much better than her, it was laughable. Kamukura knew what he was doing, and Morioka had half a mind to even know what she was throwing around. See the difference? Yes, it's quite stark.

  
  


Almost a year had passed since their first encounter. Surprisingly, Kamukura was still helping Morioka's sorry existence. Morioka never expected it either, she had thought that him helping her was a one time thing. Those nights were spent the same, fiddling with chemicals and nothing more. Neither even spoke—Morioka tried to initiate conversation frequently but it was either he spoke too bluntly or not at all.  _ What was up with him anyways? _ , Morioka would think. 

  
  


To Morioka, Kamukura was someone hard to read. 

  
  


However, in the months that they've been together, Kamukura had already known almost all there is to know about Morioka. Some, he needed confirmation, but never spoke up about it. As much as her talent was observation, she hated doing it. Morioka hated finding people's flaws. Morioka hated being bored of her environment. It was torture, something she didn't want, but still needed for acceptance. So that she would fit in with the corrupted society. Everyone who didn’t have it yearned for it, while everyone who had it would taunt the talentless or wish it was gone—it was one or the other.

  
  


"Kamukura," Morioka called out to the aforementioned man, who was still keeping himself busy by working. "Can I talk to you?"

  
  


"We are already talking," he replied, making Morioka wish that he wasn't so blunt. She didn't mind how blunt she was, but in situations where sincerity was needed, it was agitating.

  
  


"The way you're acting doesn't seem like we're holding a proper conversation," she hissed out. It was hard not to get angry at him for being this inconsiderate. So far, this is all that she knew of him—that he was blunt and inconsiderate, he relied too much on logic and not on emotional bounds. She had hoped to be able to understand him, even if it was going to be hard.

  
  


"Then—in what manner should I speak?" he inquired, cool-headed and unfazed by her outburst.

  
  


"I'm sorry, I was agitated," she sighed. 

  
  


"I am not asking you to change," Morioka looked over to him from her sitting position on the couch in the main basement room. "Just please be mindful," she doubted the way he was going to comprehend her words.

  
  


"You are already doing better than you were when we first met, and I know that change is hard to maintain, so I will let you be."

  
  


"I will keep that in mind." Her words were accompanied by a burst of warmth bubbling in his chest, a feeling he can't help but think of as foreign even as it had been present for the past months of them being together.

  
  


Kamukura saw the exasperation in her eyes, and rephrased his words: "I am not experienced in social interaction, so I apologize if I ever make you feel uncomfortable."

  
  


Kamukura knew what she meant, but emotions weren't his specialty, since he's been stripped of his, so he ignored her. He was sure Morioka noticed it as well. Just not as accurately. Once he wondered if he could reawaken his emotions. The thought was dismissed shortly thereafter. The doctors had manipulated the brain not just internally but physically too. If what they tampered with was irrevocable, then just sheer willpower wouldn't cut it. Even if he tried, he couldn't regain Hinata's memories in that body. He had felt strange bursts of emotion from speaking with her, but that was it as of that time. The theory that the main personality will be able to return when his past memories are returned was still up for debate.

  
  


"You were better off leaving me when we first met," she said. "Why did you remain here?"

  
  


There were only the two of them who were sane enough to be considered human, so there were no filtering words. It didn't matter. What use was there for honeyed words when there was no one else to brag about one's kindness to? But he didn't answer. He didn't answer. Morioka was agitated— _ patient _ . She was not angry, she was patient. And she will continue to be patient until her mind completely breaks down and she screams and tears out her hair. Which will be soon, she assumed. If she was already trying to convince herself that she was whatever positive trait was out there, then she was close to losing it.

  
  


They only had the chemicals on the table. It was all they had.  _ Fuck _ , it was even more painful to have it pointed out to you that you were pathetic—alone, even. Kamukura couldn't care less since he was bored his entire existence but Morioka… she didn't know how to think—what to think. After all those years of being alone she never realized this but with a companion she suddenly notices how miserable she was? No, she had always known this. Morioka was just trying to hold on to the hope that was quickly dwindling inside of her. She needed rest.

  
  


“You look exhausted,” he tried to change the flow of the conversation. Oddly enough, it worked. Morioka blinked at him, in her eyes a visceral realization and a newfound exhaustion. She was occupied with drowning herself into the project she always failed that she noticed too late her exhaustion. Kamukura stood in front of the table, gloves enveloping his hands and beakers grasped. He'd wanted to guide her to the realm of sleep, so she would get the rest she definitely needed, so he did.

  
  


As he walked her to the second room, she walked as she always did—sluggishly. Morioka was clumsy, with her words, with keeping her mouth shut, with her movements, she was always clumsy. She was impulsive—she guessed that it came with her talent. She didn’t think before she spoke. Simply said, she was unhinged—a mess, if you may. Morioka also had this problem with wanting to be more than herself, though Kamukura’s words had somehow lessened that urge, it still slumbered within her.

  
  


“What can I do?” she whispered passively.

  
  


Kamukura somehow knew what she was talking about. “Figure it out yourself, I can not tell you what to do regarding how you feel and what you want,” he said. He usually wasn’t this verbal. He would speak with the least words possible, not caring about the other’s reaction to his words.

  
  


If he could give a thought, he started to act like this almost a few weeks ago, into the seventh month and entering the eighth of their affiliation with each other. It happened in the nighttime, when they would not be out to scavenge for resources, the world still as vicious as it had been. Kamukura was in the main room and he was there merely because he wanted to look out for any Monokuma wandering into their safe space unannounced (Morioka found it cute how he referred to the place as _ theirs _ and not  _ just the place _ ). Morioka was sleeping—well,  _ supposed _ to be sleeping in the other room. She was being too obvious that she was awake, that's why Kamukura had purposely made his patrol longer than usual. 

  
  


No one would tell you what his thoughts were. He wouldn’t tell you what his thoughts were. So those thoughts were left to wander in his mind, with no outlet to get them out. That was why he said he would stay up to keep guard, but he didn’t speak to her, he only let Morioka assume that he was not going to sleep anytime soon. Sleep was voided to someone with a mind that runs full of thoughts the whole day. He hoped that she wouldn’t come out at that moment. Well, she will come out, eventually. A few moments from now, to be more accurate. Kamukura was continuing the  _ project _ she was working on, and he would’ve already finished it the first day they met, but that was not the way he intended for all of this to end. Kamukura still needed a decisive match against hope and despair.

  
  


The night was not as quiet as he remembered. It was more… soothing, in an odd, twisted way. Kamukura had only lived in the peaceful outside world for a short while, before fate called for chaos. Kamukura never got a chance to see what the world had to offer, despite being the perfect human being. Now that he was looking back, he had only been trailing behind that Enoshima once he left the bland room he was kept in. He never got to see what the world was, but Kamukura knew enough to know that it wasn't a sanctuary for humans. Corruption and crime slipped between the government, the underground ruling however they wanted and keeping it that way, to avoid any unnecessary conflicts—the government didn't want to have to do anything either, caring only for the material things rather than the country.

  
  


He thinks he didn't want to see it either.

  
  


It was still boring. As much as Kamukura was used to that boredom, he was  _ fed up _ with it. Getting bored of boredom, huh. Kamukura's hands were still moving. They were moving around the surface of the table. The current season of the surface would've been winter. Children would roam the streets in coats, supervised by their parents wearing equally warm garments, hand warmers in their pockets. At least, this was what Kamukura knew of wintertime. Instead of snow that would cover the ground, it had been ash. Ashes from the fires that burned humanity's ability to feel sympathy. A sad revelation, if Kamukura only had emotions to show.

  
  


Morioka wasn't asleep, that was to be expected. Morioka could not sleep. No one would be able to sleep soundlessly in the situation of the present. If one were able to sleep, let their consciousness be plagued with nightmares. Morioka would find it a surprise if anyone were to sleep okay. She thinks that Kamukura would be able to, since he seemed unfazed with whatever was going on outside. Really, she would want to know how he manages to be like that. Maybe one day, she would come up to him in a game show fashion and ask him  _ how he does it! _ It would be a fun deterrence to her constant paranoia. Well, not fun. More like amusing.

  
  


There had been a myriad of sleepless nights in Morioka's lifetime—which were mainly the reason why no one was ever attracted to her—and so, this one was the same. Plagued by her doubts. Her eyes were tired. Morioka wanted to shut them. The only problem was, her body won't cooperate.

  
  


_ That guy probably thinks that I'm asleep _ , she sighed. Surprisingly, both didn't want the other to find out that they were awake. The reason? Honestly, they just didn't want to be disturbed. The thought of leaving the room crossed Morioka's mind a couple of times. The room she resided in was quaint, so naturally, one would feel suffocated after some time. Morioka heard footsteps earlier, and alas, she had a reason to assume that Kamukura left the basement. Morioka really wanted to escape this suffocation she felt. That observation was her lone basis that made up her mind to leave the room. 

  
  


Her giddy fingers pushed on the door, right foot stepping out of the room a beat too early. Morioka realized her mistake, but it was too late to retract her limbs that had peeked out of the boundary, Kamukura's eyes were already on her, seeming as if he had expected her to come out—which, he did, by the way.  _ Shit _ , she was betting everything on being correct too. Morioka had a victory dance prepared and everything. She didn't, but at least pretend that she had victory on her mind.

  
  


Morioka started to turn around, desperate to return to the safety of her own shame. So that was what it felt like to be embarrassed. A description, it felt like wanting to bury yourself alive. Like you wanted to reverse time just to change that one decision you made. You really can't put the feeling of embarrassment to words. It was worse than the anxiety she felt when she accidentally ingested melted plastic as a child and the chaos of overthinking that followed.

  
  


"Uh," she said. Mustering words was difficult enough, but having to remember that trauma from her childhood was unnecessary. "Good evening." And there it was again, the embarrassment has come back for another round.

  
  


The man blinked, didn't even bother to greet back, and faced the table once again. In a way, his lack of acknowledgement was a relief to Morioka. Her feet skittered along the concrete, needing the air and moonlight even more. The air was polluted, so she didn't want that—but, metaphorically, the air she needed was just a  _ fucking  _ attempt to clear her mind. A useless attempt at that.

  
  


"Are you troubled?" Kamukura noticed the way she tried to hide the surprise imbued in her body language.

  
  


"What makes you think that I am?" Morioka hoped that the conversation would not escalate any further than it already has. This was her chosen answer rather than trying to avert the topic by asking to stay awake with him, which was way more noticeable than asking of his inquiry.

  
  


Crimson eyes lingered on her before ultimately returning to the unfinished work on his hands. He found it unnecessary to inform her of his observations of her mannerisms. Kamukura never spoke unless it was necessary, even if it were a question, if the answer was of no importance, then he would not speak, it was as simple as that. Besides, he knew that she didn't want to continue the conversation, and neither did he, so it was a win-win situation overall.

  
  


"Stay awake if you must," he commented bluntly. This was all he could offer honestly. Still, Morioka was surprised at his suggestion, and she wasn't going to decline it, since she had already planned on doing that in the first place.

  
  


"Right," she said, a drawl in her voice.

  
  


"You haven't told me your name yet."

  
  


"Have I any need to?" he asked. Kamukura hasn't addressed her by her name anyways, so there was mostly no use in giving her his name.

  
  


"It is a sign of knowing someone, is that enough?" she said.

  
  


Knowing someone. Kamukura didn't give it much thought. That idea. At that time. It could be a means for betrayal, a means for friendship, that lone idea could do a lot of things if left unchecked, by the person taking advantage of it without the other having any idea about it. Yet it seemed that many treasured that idea. The idea that someone didn't find them annoying enough that they would give them their names. It seemed like she treasured the idea as well.

  
  


He wondered, how one might feel to have so much conviction and belief in something that it almost shows in their face as a glow akin to that of the once shining sun. Because that was what he saw in Morioka's face. Inside him, it blossomed as a warmth that made him want to bask in it for eternity.

  
  


He was confused.

  
  


"Kamukura Izuru."

  
  


Why he decided to tell her of his name. What pushed him to do it when he had no intentions of telling her his name at all. Kamukura knew that it all started that night. That same starless, silent night that would continue to be in their presence for as long as he would stay with her. Until he decided to end it all. Until he would inevitably disappear from her life. That was the path he decided to take, and will continue to take. The Kamukura of the present would very much love to see the smile on her face once the season of despair has finally subsided, but it was not written in their futures, unfortunately enough.

  
  


Morioka had her head tilted downward in thought, testing his name on her tongue quietly. "Kamukura Izuru," she continued to repeat like a mantra.

  
  


It was bizarre to Kamukura, how she decided to murmur his name, when the name was no different from the others that she has probably heard before. It was the same, generic Japanese name, it was not his name to begin with. Just inherited from the project he was dedicated to. Despite his confusion, he was intrigued by her mannerisms. The way she acted struck him as odd. She didn't exactly conform to the norms of society, but there was a want to also fit in, and she integrated that into her actions and personality. The more unpleasant aspects were more plunged into her personality than her mannerisms.

  
  


"Why do you say my name like that?" he asked, finally.

  
  


"Uh, I wanted to see how it would sound—well, hear is the more appropriate word, but you get the gist of it right?" she stammered uncoolly.

  
  


"Why?" Kamukura pressed on. It seemed that he was almost questioning why she was doing something so unacceptable.

  
  


"Frankly, I don't know myself," she sheepishly whispered.

  
  


"Are there more that you don't know?"

  
  


Morioka nodded, "I don't know a lot of things, the knowledge of the world is too vast for me to comprehend, too grand for someone as unworthy as me to know."

  
  


"Receiving knowledge does not revolve around one's worth," he said, eyes narrowing at her self-deprecating perspective on life.

  
  


"I guess you can say that I was just lazy then." Her voice came out in bursts of varying emotions—realization, disbelief, disappointment. Given her talent, she would've been able to make out information from what she's seen. But to be so utterly behind on the topic of knowledge, showed that she was slacking off more than she meant.

  
  


"Are you not allowed to slack off?"

  
  


Morioka blinked owlishly at him, surprised at his curiosity. "I don't allow myself to be lazy, that would be me acting out of character."

  
  


"Why are you restricting yourself? You don't need to conform specifically to your talent, even if that's what society desires," he spat, annoyed at her for being so shallow.

  
  


"People change, huh?" she chuckled.

  
  


"What do you mean?"

  
  


"Don't tell me you haven't noticed, Kamukura," she said. "When we first met you were so adamant on telling me that my talent was useless and now you tell me that I am not bound to that fate alone. So believe me when I say, that you've changed, be it for the better or for the worse, I like this new you."

  
  


He hadn't noticed at all. But he did well in masking his surprise. He needn't her questions about his new personality influenced by her own. Morioka had also remarked that she liked how he was. That brought out an unwanted spark of bright warmth from his chest. Kamukura wanted to question that warmth, why it had arisen again from his ice cold heart. He wanted to relish in it, he liked the feeling of it. His heart rate spiked with that warmth, a foreign sensation to the one voided of emotion.

  
  


"Are you okay?" she was frantically waving her palm over his face, "Have I insulted you? I apologize, forgive me." Morioka was panicking, and rightfully so. She had never seen Kamukura so deep in thought, it was mesmerizing, but when she understood that it was her words that triggered the reaction, she panicked, thinking that she broke him. As if one could break a man as cold as Kamukura. But somehow, she succeeded, and that was reason enough to want to suffocate.

  
  


"No, you haven't. I just had an epiphany," he whispered, trying to mask the sudden change in his body, which was easy enough.

  
  


Morioka's eyes were suddenly sparkling, and that warmth was back, yet again. The warmth that continued to intrude in his life as time passed by. It was something Morioka never dared to observe about him. She had already given up trying to figure him out when they first met, so she didn't have any reason to try again. Even as Kamukura stood before her sleeping form, that warmth was there, flooding him with a sensation that was akin to the freedom in flight, freed from the shackles of responsibility of the chaos he started. He wished it could continue like that, but fate couldn't allow their paths to cross once more.

  
  


Their remaining days together were counted, and every time the clock ticked, Kamukura dreaded that day even more. So, he treasured every second he had left with her. Time is something that cannot be taken back once lost, so he would rather her notice the abrupt change in his actions than try to be discreet about it and ultimately regret it in the end. Of course, just as he had speculated, Morioka had noticed it. The way he had more motivation in everything he did, rather than being disincentive.

  
  


"Hey," Morioka started. "Are you alright?"

  
  


"No," she rephrased herself. "Have you been feeling alright lately, Kamukura?"

  
  


Kamukura blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

  
  


Morioka groaned inwardly and refused to explain. Not that she didn't want to, it's just that it was hard, to let someone know of the changes they have exhibited, like she was questioning him  _ why _ he changed. Just like he did to her when she asked for his name. Morioka had no need to treat him the way he did her. Her grip on her pen slackened and it clattered to the ground almost noiselessly, if not for the fact that the duo knew it was falling.

  
  


Kamukura looked at the fallen pen. "Let it be my turn to ask what you did to me," he said, eyes still on the pen. "Are you alright?"

  
  


Morioka drew out a sigh and turned to Kamukura. "Do I look like I am?" In her eyes were not the exhaustion from a while back, but rather, a longing. For what? For the freedom they once had? For the life they desired to live? Those answers only lied in the girl's subconscious.

  
  


"Do you wish to see the sun yet again?"

  
  


She had never looked towards him so quickly as she did just then. Kamukura almost sucked in a breath at the great warmth of her hope. So she wished to see the sun. It was a challenging wish to grant, but as their time together grows littler still, he would want to grant every wish she makes with the best of his ability, to see the happiness and the hope that he oh so loathed and found boring in her eyes. Then maybe, that would change how he felt about the responsibility placed upon him.

  
  


"Alright then."

  
  


Kamukura Izuru held his hand out to the girl that made his heart flutter, an offer to come with him and his affection laying in the palm of his hands. With a smile that lit up even the darkest of nights, she took what he had offered and stood, dragged away by him. Her eyes filled with mirth at the chance to see the sun again. The night will come to an end, lighting up what it had left behind, the sun appears bright, the emblem of hope spreading its lights in the horizon.

  
  


If he could, if he had the power to, just as he wished repeatedly, he would stay with her like this. As he guided her around danger, the happiness in her eyes remained untouched, the want to drink it all up consumed him, and he stopped in the empty field of silence, luckily free of chaos. It was like the world decided to accept her wish of sunrise, of freedom, even if it were to happen in only a fraction of a second, as long as she would see it, it was enough for him, he would leave her, content with what he had done for her, even if it tears himself apart, as long as he would see that smile permanently on her face, even if not in his own consciousness, it would be enough.

  
  


"What would be your wish once the sunlight graces the earth?" His hand still had not let go of hers.

  
  


"I would wish that we stay like this for however long we want," she said, a smile in her words even if her face had not reflected the emotion.  _ His wish. _ That too, was his wish. But, more than anything, he wished for the smile on her face, and he would not get it with her, not like this. 

  
  


Leaving was necessary. As much as his now warm heart hurt him to lead him to believe that it wasn't, it was. Her arms wrapped around him, yet he did not return it. Her face was buried in his chest, and words vibrated through his body, but he could not comprehend what she said. It was when she pulled away with a heavy-hearted smile on her face that he understood. She had known all along that he would leave.

  
  


"I would like to see the sunrise in your arms, if you'd let me, Izuru."

  
  


Kamukura's eyes widened at the utterance of his first name. This, he cannot hide anymore. Not when he knew how much it meant to call someone by their first name. Not when he had grown fond of her that she decided to say his name. Warmth. The sensation that only came because of her alone. Kamukura tried to burn her face into his mind, that he won't forget even when the time came that he would be forced to forget. This was the exact reason why he'd wanted not to get close. As one could see, he failed, miserably at that, even falling hard for her. But even as his decision was idiotic, he didn't regret staying. He would do it all over again if he could.

  
  


His eyes were drawn away from her at the light that peeked through the line that separated the land and the sky, the sun had started to rise. And along with that light the bright smile that Kamukura just saw for the first time appeared, and by them, he knew that the smile she had now would never fail to make his heart leap out of his chest.

  
  


For the first time, he had seen her smile.

  
  


But with all good things, it would come to an end. That momentary ecstasy with her had no place in him, even as he wanted to keep it forever. The sun had finally risen, as a new beginning in their lives, a new chapter, and a new challenge that needed facing. Only a few days remained until his departure. Kamukura would say it again and again, but he truly wished that the day of their separation would never come.

  
  


"Kamukura?" her lilting voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Am I doing this correctly?" He watched as she pointed to the beakers on the table, looking at him for approval.

  
  


Kamukura stood, taking the beakers, and putting them aside, taking out clean ones and restarting the whole process, only doing it correctly.

  
  


"Oh," she said. "So that was what I was doing wrong."

  
  


"You can try again, if you need to," Kamukura said.

  
  


She had been right all along, receiving someone's name was a sign of knowing someone. And one thing he had left out, knowing someone also meant establishing trust between each other. It definitely helped them grow closer to each other. As well as the sunrise they spent together. It helped him a lot in knowing her better for who she was rather than her talent. If she had any knowledge of what she had done to him in their time together, then she did well in hiding it, though it was impossible that she did, since she would probably question him about it almost immediately after she found out. Additionally, Kamukura was also well in hiding his emotions, since all she's noticed was the way he did things changing.

  
  


Nothing much had happened after the sunrise viewing, other than her mood that greatly improved. Kamukura could see that renewed happiness in her face, and that made the warmth he felt refuse to disappear. She had returned to doing the hobbies she had in the past as well, so at least Kamukura could say that he had a hand in her happiness. Even if he was not the sole reason for her happiness, it was enough.

  
  


It was enough.

  
  


It was enough.

  
  


The day has come.

  
  


He didn't know how hard it would be.

  
  


How hard it would be for him to leave her.

  
  


But as he did, he at least left with a piece of his heart still with her. He stood before where she laid, pushing her hair away gently that he would be able to press a parting kiss against her forehead. The warmth that followed was something he would dearly miss. He hoped that she would have found her happiness once everything was over. Even if it was not with him, her happiness is what's most important to him.

  
  


_ Goodbye, if our paths were to cross again, here's a hope that our emotions remain the same, whatever you might feel for me. _

  
  


Why he stayed? Well, it was because of her, the girl that changed the way he viewed the world, the girl that taught him how to love, his galaxy.

**Author's Note:**

> underlined text has a comment attached,  
> 1: there was supposed to be a kuroo reference here, and breaking the dimensional wall narration, but i had ultimately decided to remove it, i did not intend for this to be a comedy ff, as it had taken me almost 2 months to finish this  
> 2: there was supposed to be a countdown/timer that he would make his decision in that time period before she offered him herself, but, we are not bound by time—they are not bound by time, they could spend eternity building their affections for each other, and i would be alright :)
> 
> thank you guys for reading, as you can see, this was rushed, since i wanted to start on another project
> 
> two months of writing has led to this terribly oof fanfic
> 
> i have depression (not really)
> 
> i hope you liked this


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